


no love for old souls

by mew_tsubaki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst to the max, Love triangles suck but are good muse fodder, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/mew_tsubaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matsukawa believes Hanamaki might change, one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no love for old souls

**Author's Note:**

> The Haikyuu! characters belong to Furudate Haruichi-sensei, not to me. For the prompts "now you're gone" and "love is never simple." Read, review, and enjoy! *Done for matsuhanaweek on tumblr.*

Hanamaki is fickle.

Matsukawa knows this, but he still holds out some hope.

"Hey, hey, so we were at the arcade the other day, and Yahaba said he'd never done para-para before." Hanamaki's eyes light up as they eat lunch in Matsukawa's homeroom. "Can you believe that? Like, it hadn't even occurred to him to try it. God, I was stunned he even knew what it was."

"And so?" Matsukawa knows when to prompt his friend to continue his story. He's a good friend like that.

"So naturally I roped him into trying it out." He laughs, but it's a softer laugh, different from the kind of laugh they share at Oikawa's expense during practice when Iwaizumi's trying to control him or when Kunimi makes some snarky remark. The sound is deeper, more genuine…no, not _more_ genuine. It's just a different _kind_ of genuine. "Ahh, man… You should've seen him, Matsukawa. He was like an octopus on a hot plate—all flying limbs and whatnot." He cups his cheek in his palm and leans on Matsukawa's desk. "Damn, he's cute when he's flustered."

"Mm," the taller teen mumbles, because he doesn't want to hear this. He'll be Hanamaki's best friend, yes, but that's exactly why he doesn't want to hear this—

—because he's Hanamaki Takahiro's best friend, and nothing more. At least, not anymore.

The bell rings, signaling the end of their time together until club. Hanamaki grins at him.

"You know, you should find someone like that, too."

Matsukawa shrugs. He doesn't trust his voice when all he can think about is how he'd _had_ that someone, and not all that long ago.

Hanamaki hops up as the second chime arrives, muttering "Shit, shit, shit, gonna be late" as he skedaddles. He mock-salutes Matsukawa on the way out, and Matsukawa raises his hand to wave back, but it's too late. Hanamaki's already disappeared into the hallway.

Matsukawa stares at his hands on his desk after he puts his bento away. He's always too late.

* * *

During practice, Matsukawa's head is anywhere but in the game.

Sure, his eyes follow the others and his ears hear directions and his body moves…but his body moves on its own, because his mind is elsewhere. His eyes dart to Hanamaki, and his mind is transported back to first year.

Good grief, things were so much simpler then, back in their first year. In their first year, they barely knew each other. Sure, they had heard of each other, in a few cases—who _didn't_ know about Kita-Dai's Oikawa and Iwaizumi and their combo? And some had heard about Matsukawa, even, because he was a fairly reliable middle blocker. But Hanamaki had come in as a libero, at first, before his growth spurt and before showing potential as a wing spiker instead. And, after bonding half over teasing Oikawa and Iwaizumi and half over rare but tasty snacks, Matsukawa had decided that he not only wanted to be Hanamaki's friend—he wanted to be Hanamaki's everything. And that's kind of something, to know instinctively at the tender age of fifteen-going-on-sixteen.

Hanamaki had even said as much to him. They'd been walking home together and stopped to get drinks when Matsukawa had blurted out that he liked Hanamaki in _that_ way. Hanamaki had been impressed: "I'm amazed someone can know that when I can't even figure out what position I'm supposed to play on the team."

"You…I'm being serious," Matsukawa had grumbled uncharacteristically.

Hanamaki had grinned, characteristically. "Oh, I've no doubt about that." He'd laughed, but it hadn't been to make fun of his friend. No, that much had been clear when he'd backed up so they'd stood beside each other and Hanamaki had taken the hand not clutching the strap of Matsukawa's gym bag. "I admire you for saying that, and I appreciate it."

Matsukawa's shoulders had sagged at the time.

"Oh, you dork—I'm not _rejecting_ you."

And Matsukawa's shoulders had lifted just as quickly. That was how he'd begun dating Hanamaki.

Still, Matsukawa now knows that that part is always the easy part. There isn't that much difference in being friends with someone and dating someone. All there is is the desire to be more intimate than a friend might ever allow, and to share more of yourself than a friend might ever wish to have.

"Mattsun…!" comes Oikawa's groan on the other side of the net, and he tosses the ball to Shido, who spikes it hard but not hard enough to throw Matsukawa off-balance.

But at least Shido's spike is hard enough to pull him out of his reverie in the meantime.

* * *

During history, his thoughts drift dangerously to those of him and Hanamaki in second year. If dating had been the easy part, then the other stuff—it had been like taking candy from a baby, as they say.

The teacher drones on, so Matsukawa poses at his desk, text and notebook open…pen in hand but not moving. It's the perfect imitation of being studious.

But, once upon a time, Matsukawa Issei had been the top student in another subject. At least, he likes to think so. How many make-out sessions does it take for someone to learn all their partner's weak spots, anyway? He had figured, back in second year, that it took about eight. Hanamaki had tried to deny it, but he melted a little too easily in Matsukawa's hands.

The middle blocker takes a deep, slow breath and lets his eyes drift almost close. Doing so makes the images flood the forefront of his mind more easily—Hanamaki's breath coming out in short, hot puffs on Matsukawa's neck, Matsukawa thumbing Hanamaki's swollen lips between soul-sucking kisses, Hanamaki's hand slipping and sliding through Matsukawa's curls, Matsukawa using his slight height advantage to trap Hanamaki in his embrace. And the other images come, too, far too easily.

Going home that first time together.

Hanamaki's parents being out.

Hanamaki saying they'd be out for a while.

Awkwardly trying to watch TV and play games before holding hands and kissing and touching.

Hanamaki fumbling to get their ties off.

Matsukawa trying not to laugh at either of them for fumbling with their buttons and belts and zippers.

Hanamaki's little gasp at seeing all of Matsukawa.

Matsukawa's shyness at showing anyone besides his parents this much of him.

The kisses with which Hanamaki had peppered his chest.

How gentle Matsukawa had been—at least Hanamaki, ever the hornier one, had been prepared and bought supplies ahead of time (Matsukawa never did figure out how far in advance Hanamaki had bought everything).

Hanamaki's cries.

Matsukawa's fretting.

Hanamaki assuring him that he'd be all right and holding Matsukawa's head to his chest to calm him.

Matsukawa cleaning the both of them up afterwards.

That scene still sticks out in Matsukawa's mind and calms him down, even though he's sitting rather uncomfortably in history class now with a reminder of the "fun times" between his legs. The thing is, Hanamaki's a pretty guy, but there was something serene and ethereal about him drenched in sweat that day, with the light of the sunset pouring in from the window over him, his smile bigger than Matsukawa had ever seen. He'd just been hurt quite a bit, but he'd smiled at Matsukawa as if he'd been given the biggest present anyone could offer. And he'd reached out for Matsukawa's hand, taken the cloth from it, and kissed the back, just whispering "Matsu" over and over again.

It had been like saying "I love you," but it'd been so much more than that. So for every "Matsu" out of Hanamaki's mouth, Matsukawa had echoed with "Hana," and they'd just been two teenagers in love.

Someone to Matsukawa's left knocks their pencil case onto the floor, jolting him from his memories. Though he's annoyed, he doesn't begrudge the disturbance. He knows it doesn't do well to dwell on the past….

* * *

…but sometimes he can't help but dwell on the past.

This thought strikes him whenever he sees Hanamaki with Yahaba at school or during club. It just—it just _doesn't make sense_. Hanamaki's not supposed to be happy with Yahaba.

"Matsukawa-san," Kindaichi says to him, "is everything all right?"

"Hmm? Why do you ask?"

"Well…" The first year fidgets. "You've been glaring at Yahaba-san's back for most of practice today…"

Oh, crap. Matsukawa likes to think that he's the kind of guy on whose face it's not easy to read his agitation, unless he makes it so. And he _doesn't_ want to make his jealousy so readily noticeable. He eases up a bit, relaxes his shoulders and throws them back. He's the picture of calm. "No, I just have something in my eye. I've been squinting all day long," he lies with ease—something he got better at from spending too much time with the smoothest of talkers, Hanamaki.

"Ohh," Kindaichi exclaims. "Well, I hope it clears up soon." Poor kid is so damn earnest and honest, it's a crime.

Meanwhile, Matsukawa tries to tone down the "glares" he throws Yahaba's way. It still bothers Matsukawa, because Hanamaki and Yahaba weren't supposed to last this long.

Sure, second year had begun with a blast and a lot of fun for Hanamaki and Matsukawa…but then their romance had quieted, and they'd started hanging out more like friends, like when they'd first met.

Then Hanamaki had stunned him one day and said he wanted to try something new and date a few girls.

Matsukawa hadn't believed his ears. Yeah, Hanamaki would waffle when it came to choosing between flavored milks from the vending machine or which flavor cream puff to buy at the bakery, but _girls_? All of this time spent dating Matsukawa, and suddenly he was into _girls_?

And what could Matsukawa honestly do? He didn't want to lose Hanamaki, but he definitely didn't want to lose Hanamaki as a friend, least of all.

So Matsukawa had smiled endearingly and shrugged it off as Hanamaki going through a phase. Hanamaki went off and tried to swing it with three girls and, by the fourth, Matsukawa was convinced that he would be back with him. Except Matsukawa had forgotten one particular fact:

They were in their second year, and some first years had joined the volleyball club.

Hanamaki had treated his girlfriends pretty well—none of them ever spread rumors about him or anything—but Matsukawa had been correct, up to a point. For Hanamaki, girls _had_ seemed like a phase, and so Hanamaki came back to boys…

But it was the wrong boy. He'd discovered Yahaba Shigeru instead of rediscovering his best friend.

Even thinking about it now, Matsukawa's pulse quickens angrily. The volleyball in his hands is gripped a little tighter, and he tries to empty his mind briefly—to think of that song he was listening to last night, that calming one, with its regular beat and charming vocals and soulful sound and _goddamn it this isn't helping in the least bit_.

With Yahaba around, fat chance of Hanamaki ever looking at Matsukawa that way again.

And, worse yet, Matsukawa has been there to witness their romance from day one. From the day before the spring high of their second year, when Hanamaki mumbled to Matsukawa that he thought Yahaba was both gorgeous and hot; from that night before winter break that same year, when Hanamaki messaged him on LINE about whether it'd be crazy or not to ask Yahaba out; from the morning on New Year's, when Hanamaki called him before even the birds were awake to tell him excitedly that Yahaba had agreed to a date—Matsukawa's been there for all of it.

Matsukawa sighs to himself and watches the two interact on the sidelines. It would've been nice if Yahaba had only been humoring Hanamaki…but they really do get along well. Matsukawa turns away from the sight of them.

Days like this make it hard to come to practice.

* * *

If Matsukawa's calculations are correct, it shouldn't be long before Hanamaki moves on, moves past Yahaba. He's only positing this on his own experience with the spiker and by summing the time spent with girlfriends, but still. Calculations are calculations, and numbers don't lie, even though Matsukawa isn't the biggest fan of math.

He feels for Yahaba, but he can sense change coming, especially after their loss to Karasuno in this year's spring high. Change is coming for all of the third years—Shido says he's done playing volleyball once high school's over, Sawauchi and Yuda will still try to play together in university, and even Iwaizumi and Oikawa are looking at the possibility of being split up. Time ticks down for them, career questionnaires are filled out two or three times, and countless entrance exams are taken. Hanamaki is trying to get into a university, but he's finding it ridiculously hard since he's not really the studious type and since he isn't even sure what he'd study if he _did_ pass.

"Maybe I won't go then," he grumbles to Matsukawa on a weekend when they're hanging out at the latter's together.

Matsukawa isn't surprised to hear this kind of language from his friend. It's his fickleness showing through. "Then don't go," he says, never letting his eyes leave the screen of the TV. He's playing a survival game—one blink, and it's all over.

"But I want to go… People have fun at this point in their lives. It's a new experience," Hanamaki whines, butting his head against Matsukawa's arm like a pushy cat.

"Then go."

" _Matsuuuuuuuu_ …," Hanamaki drawls. He heaves a sigh and quiets down. He watches the blocker play for a few minutes, and then: "…I think I should let Yahaba go. What do you think?"

One blink, and it's all over. Matsukawa swallows the lump in his throat and pauses his game. He glances down at his friend, hoping his excitement isn't evident on his face. "Well…how do you feel about things?"

Hanamaki sighs again, looks Matsukawa in the eye, and then closes his eyes. "…I dunno. I'm saying shit out loud. I'm not giving it any real thought, sorry."

"No problem." Matsukawa goes back to his game, and he tries to focus, but he dies and restarts the level four times.

He feels for Yahaba, he does—as much as a senpai, a teammate, a schoolmate should—but he can't help but be ecstatic about this development. He's been the one unchanging thing in Hanamaki's high school life, so he thinks he stands a chance. He could have another chance with Hanamaki, especially when they graduate, judging by Hanamaki's relation of the two subjects.

* * *

As predicted, Hanamaki is fickle as ever and tells Yahaba that they should cool down since Hanamaki will be graduating. He likely won't be around much, he tells the setter, because he's looking at schools not in Miyagi or really anywhere nearby, for that matter.

"How did he take it?" Matsukawa asks on the walk home.

"How do you think?" Hanamaki gripes.

"Your face doesn't have any fresh slap marks, so…"

Hanamaki grunts. "It was like, as soon as I said we should cool off, he cooled off. I've never seen him like that. Maybe this is the right thing to do, Matsu, if he's gonna react like that at the idea of me going away…"

Of course, as the days and weeks pass, the idea of Hanamaki going away like the rest of them seems more like fantasy than reality. Matsukawa has to try hard, but even he gets into his first choice after a second try. On the other hand, Hanamaki sits and stews as it seems more and more likely that he'll have to search for work in Miyagi instead.

Matsukawa feels for him, and he isn't ready to put distance between the two of them just yet. He thinks he could invite Hanamaki to come with him to the city anyway, even if Hanamaki has no prospects. Maybe that will change things between them. Maybe that will cheer Hanamaki up. At least they'll be together.

They get closer and closer to graduation, and Matsukawa lets his idea slip to his best friend when they're out for lunch on the weekend. Amazingly, Hanamaki's eyes widen and he takes Matsukawa up on the offer. The spiker promises to get a job right away so as not to be a burden, Hanamaki's parents promise to send money to help out since they know their son and therefore _know_ how much of a burden…err, cat he is, and Matsukawa begins to smile more often.

Graduation arrives. They're no longer Seijou's third years. Iwaizumi heads in one direction, Oikawa another. Shido stays local. Sawauchi and Yuda go far away.

And Hanamaki, just like in the good ol' days, is right there beside Matsukawa as they move to the city.

* * *

It's…it's almost as if those other relationships never happened.

University is definitely a change, but it's fun. Matsukawa takes random courses—psychology, anthropology, astronomy, economics—as he tries to figure out what he wants to do. Hanamaki finds work as a cycling deliveryman, considering his physique. They eat out more often than they should, Hanamaki attempts to cook—Matsukawa, it turns out, is only good at making sweets—and they make a new life for themselves in an apartment in a shoddy corner of the city, near the far end of the train station.

Sometimes days are tough. Sometimes Matsukawa has so much schoolwork that he doesn't sleep. Sometimes Hanamaki has a close call because he has to share the road with people who don't know how to drive and think he doesn't know how to ride a bike.

Some days are golden. Sometimes Matsukawa's professors cancel class because summertime in the city is a lot prettier than most people believe. Sometimes Hanamaki gets double-time for an early day and comes home with treats. Sometimes they just stay in, goofing off and having a laugh and just living it up, like they used to do and yet _not_ like they used to do.

The thing is, it's a bit different this time around. Matsukawa knows how to recognize the palpitations in his chest when he catches an eyeful of Hanamaki when walking by the bathroom and the door's cracked open. Hanamaki loves to rest his head in Matsukawa's lap when they respectively listen to and watch the TV at night. Their eyes meet more often than ever. Basically, things begin to get more than friendly between them once more.

In some ways, it's heaven. Matsukawa thinks things are going great. Yes, nothing is being said aloud, but when there are those shared, shy looks followed by the throaty chuckles at how ridiculous you're being, you just know that there's something palpable in the room. Once or twice, he even catches Hanamaki undressing him with his bedroom eyes and _hell_ , when did such a stare become even more alluring?

Months pass. Hanamaki takes Matsukawa's hand in his from time to time. Matsukawa pointedly says nothing about their interactions. And Hanamaki—

Hanamaki starts to look at him with the smile that he used to have so often when talking about Yahaba.

"This was a good idea," he tells Matsukawa, resting his head on the taller man's shoulder as they walk through a park in late autumn. "You and I—this was a good idea. We're like an old married couple. We're not supposed to be apart, y'know?"

Matsukawa chuckles in response. He knows. He knows it so well. And he knows something else now, too:

He is allowed to have hope. He is a contender once again.

* * *

Their first New Year's alone together feels like something out of a rom-com—just the two of them partying—and time flies. Before they know it, it's Hanamaki's nineteenth birthday. They spend the day in since Matsukawa doesn't have classes and Hanamaki calls in sick to work—just the one time—and they have fun.

They're laughing and collapsing on the floor, under the kotatsu on the same side of the table, hands linked, and there's seemingly nothing but them in the world in that moment. Really, it's the perfect moment, Matsukawa thinks. He turns his head to the left and finds Hanamaki staring back.

Hanamaki…damn, he's beautiful. He's got a spot by his nose, he's got bags under his tawny eyes, and his lips are chapped in three places. His smile's so wide, though, and he's just so _fucking beautiful_. Matsukawa's reminded of their first time and Hanamaki's breathy "Matsu"s, and his heart clenches.

This is it. Now's the time. Now's the time to confess and give it another shot.

Matsukawa opens his mouth, but Hanamaki rolls over onto his back, so now his attention's on the ceiling and not on his dark-haired friend. He laughs again, even though they've both forgotten what even they were laughing about anymore. "I heard from everyone already today."

"Ah, right. Did Oikawa remind Iwaizumi?"

"Yep. You know, considering Iwaizumi's such a mother, you think he'd remember all the important dates for his friends, but he's surprisingly oblivious when it comes to things that don't concern his childhood friend."

"Five hundred yen that they're married before forty."

"Deal." Hanamaki glances at Matsukawa again. "Even Yahaba contacted me."

Just like that, Matsukawa's blood goes ice cold. _One blink, and it's all over_ , he thinks. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, we've stayed in touch some since last year… Ah, he says he'll be studying here next year." Hanamaki's eyes soften. "You know…I think I'm going to try harder with him." He chuckles at himself at the absurdity of the idea. "He makes me feel good, Matsu. Not in _that_ way. …well, that way, too, but…I dunno. I just try harder to be a better person when he's around, and I think that's a good thing, growing. Don't you?"

What's there to say? "No"? "That's a terrible idea"? "In what way has he made you want to change that I never have made you feel"? "Changing isn't necessarily a good thing"? "There was nothing wrong with you as you are right now"? "There was nothing wrong with you as you were before"? "Don't grow and become a Hanamaki I can't recognize"?

"Matsu?"

Matsukawa blinks, realizing his friend really expects an answer. So he swallows the lump in his throat and, ever the good friend, nods, as usual not trusting his voice at the worst of times.

At the very least, at least Hanamaki doesn't compare him and Yahaba. There's no comment about how different they are. There's no remark about Hanamaki's preference for topping over bottoming. Most importantly, there's no statement that, while they may be the old married couple, it doesn't mean they're _supposed_ to be together, not in this sense.

Internally, a voice screams inside Matsukawa's head, trying to rationalize Hanamaki's decisions, that Hanamaki maybe was never capable of having genuine feelings for him, that Hanamaki maybe had a type—not boys or girls but the _pretty_ type and, let's face it, Matsukawa knows he's not what most people would describe as "pretty"—and that Hanamaki is going to change his mind probably a hundred more times before the end of the decade.

Matsukawa ignores the voice. Instead, he sees in his mind's eye a cruel portrait of the three of them: him and Hanamaki, sitting drinking coffee together, Hanamaki's hand on his leg. Yahaba walks up to them, conversation is friendly and mind-numbing, and Hanamaki leaves with him, Hanamaki's hand at the small of his back. And the image repeats like a terrible GIF he can't delete from his brain.

He knows it, then. He knows that his hope, for Hanamaki to choose (for Hanamaki not to be so wishy-washy), is just a pipe dream, and it's probably one that will last him well into the future. Either way, Matsukawa holds on to it, just as tightly as he holds on to Hanamaki's hand while Hanamaki chatters away, unaware of the turmoil his best friend faces as he lies beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh noes…what have I done. D8 Well, I guess I really ran away with the prompts here… ;w; I mean, I do like this ship, though Hanayaha and Matsuwata are my OTPs, and I'm a sucker for the "longtime friends turned lovers" trope, but THIS. WHY. WHY BRAIN WHY. *sighs* Honestly, I wanted to write something emotionally tragic, and the pains of friends falling in and out of love just slays me… It also doesn't help to set my MP3 player to shuffle, because then songs like "Come to Me" by Clazziquai (actually the song I had Matsukawa thinking of earlier in the fic) and "Numb" by Pet Shop Boys play…bUT THEN. THEN. Then "Always" by Depeche Mode played, and I just about lost it because of this: "I just want to be part of the light, of the light, of the light, of the light, of the light in your eyes." So yeah. Sorry for the feels, but hope you enjoyed this emotional roller coaster? At least this is my only actually angsty/sad submission for Matsuhana week. :c
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review! And check out my other [HQ!] fics if you liked this.
> 
> -mew-tsubaki D8


End file.
